


He’s My Boyfriend, Or At Least He Used To Be

by Masterless



Category: wtfock
Genre: F/M, M/M, i don’t know why I thought of this but I wrote it, this is from Britt’s pov, this was way longer than I thought it was going to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterless/pseuds/Masterless
Summary: Then something happened.It was the beginning of the school year and Sander had gone out with friends, ones that Britt didn’t like, and he came back all… soft. It looked like he was melting around the edges, not physically, but mentally. He was happy and bubbly, not manic in anyway, though Britt tried to brush it off as the beginnings of an episode. When she asked what he’d done that night, he said he’d spray painted the side of a garbage truck. So what was so different about that night?Based on a text post by glitterdammerung that I saw on Instagram
Relationships: Britt/Sander, Robbe/Sander, minor Britt/Jens
Comments: 6
Kudos: 186





	He’s My Boyfriend, Or At Least He Used To Be

Britt has known Robbe for as long as she knew Jens. They were a packaged deal. Jens, her funny, loving, boisterous, cheating, backstabbing ex-boyfriend, and his best friend Robbe. He was quiet and kind, and passive. She always knew how to get her way with him, how to get him to go away when she wanted alone time with Jens, and Jens rarely ever stood up for his friend. She knew their dynamic, she knew how to play both of them. Robbe was non-confrontational. He didn’t like fighting, he didn’t like drama. So he just went along with whatever she wanted, because he wouldn’t say anything otherwise. The only time Britt saw him get angry or annoyed was when someone, generally Moyo, another one of Jens’ friends, would say something about his sexuality. They’d call him gay, and he’d get defensive. Britt didn’t pay attention to it.

She wished she had.

When she started dating Sander, she thought she’d found the one. She’d met him at the end of the school year, at some art show her friend Noor had dragged her to. They’d been friends since the summer before, since after everything happened with Jana but before Britt and Jana were friends again. So when Noor asked her to hangout and go see the graduating classes art projects, she said yes. Britt was wandering around and looking at photographs and paintings when she saw him. A white blond head among dozens of brunettes. She got closer, and found him staring at one of his own pieces. A charcoal drawing of a boy, hiding in a corner with his head between his knees. She couldn’t figure out what was so special about it, but it’s title was “Depression”, so she guessed it had something to do with that. She realised that the next picture was the same boy, but basking in the summer sun, this one drawn in colour. They were soft and comfortable, regular. It was called “Stasis”. The next drawing in the line of three was an explosion of activity, she couldn’t really figure out what was going on, but knew that the colours felt wrong. They were too intense, and they were angry. Bright reds and deep maroons, oranges and yellows that almost stung her eyes. She saw that this one was called “Mania”.

“Do you like them?” the blond boy asked.

This close, she could see that his hair was bleached. It disappointed her, but he was still cute. His left eye was a little wonky and his smile a little crooked. Still, she thought he looked nice.

“I do. I don’t get it though,” she replied. “I mean, I get that it’s a progression of emotion, from sad to happy to angry. But the titles? Not so much.”

“It’s not that.” He shrugged. “Though, I suppose it could be.”

“What is it then?” Britt turned to face him, but he didn’t turn to face her.

“It’s…. it was how I processed my diagnosis. I’m bipolar, so. I knew the different stages of it, knew the technical terms, but they didn’t mean anything to me. Not until this.”

Britt knew he never thought he’d see her again. Some random girl was looking at his art and asking for an explanation, so why wouldn’t he give it? In the long run, he told her several times that he wished he’d never told her. He wasn’t ashamed of it, of being bipolar. He didn’t really care if people knew. He was upset by their reactions and scared that people would leave him, though. So when she asked him out on a date that night, proud of herself for asking him out, he was surprised. He said yes, because no one had asked him out before. He’d had girlfriends and boyfriends before, she’d found out, but he’d always done the asking. And they never lasted long. He realised, after a while, his actions put people off. The intensity of his love frightened people, and to be fair, it frightened him, too. But Britt needed someone to love her like that. She needed someone to love her with an intensity that scared her, because when he loved her, she had a power over him.

His first bad mania scared her beyond anything. He became obsessive and unreachable. He wouldn’t answer her calls, her texts, he was unresponsive when she went to his house, to his room. His parents knew what was happening and they warned her that it could overwhelm her, but that the best thing she could do was ride the waves with him. She should listen to his excited ranting about David Bowie and be interested, or at least pretend to be. If he was sharing it with her, with someone, then he wasn’t going to be a danger to himself. She nodded and went to see him, and she realised quickly that she hated David Bowie. His voice was strange and he sang in English. His songs didn’t make sense and she just got tired of listening to hundreds of versions of the same song. Original, remake, acoustic, cover. It was all the same song.

“No, no,” Sander said. His mouth moved like he was trying to speak but the words were lost in his head. “It’s not all the same, it’s… it’s big and small.” He stood from his bed and picked up the record cover, showing it to her. “Look, this song, right? The one that’s playing. It’s about feeling small in a big space. Feeling lost in space when everyone knows that you’re in space. Right? Do you get it?”

“No.” Britt shook her head. “And, Sander, can’t we listen to something else? Something good? Just for one song?”

He shook his head, and she saw his eyes drift away. She’d lost him.

When his depression hit, it scared her even more than the mania. It was an intense quiet, a tense silence. But they’d made plans and he wasn’t skipping meeting her parents for dinner because he was sad. So she helped him out of bed, pulling on his arms and pinching his sides to get him to stand.

“Britt,” he whispered. “I can’t. Not right now.”

“You promised.” She threw a shirt at him, a pale blue button up that had been shoved to the back of his closet because he hated it. She bought it for him a month ago, and he’d never worn it. “You told me we’d meet my parents for dinner tonight, and you are going. So buck up and put a smile on your face, we’re already late.”

“I can’t.” 

“Yes you can, and you will.”

She was glad her parents had met him before, because that night had just been embarrassing. He didn’t talk and he barely ate, he didn’t act normal like she’d wanted him to. Her dad didn’t notice anything was wrong because he didn’t like Sander anyway, not his hair or his leather jack or his clunky boots, but her mother picked up on it. When they were leaving, she pulled him aside and asked him if he was okay. Britt overheard this and butted in.

“He’s fine,” she said, hooking their arms together. “Just a little down at the moment.”

“Are you sure?” her mum asked him. She wasn’t even looking at Britt.

“I’m taking care of him.”

“But are you okay?” she asked again, firmly. “How are you doing, Sander?”

Britt looked up at him and tightened her grip on his arm. He looked down at her and then over to her mum.

“I’m okay. Just a little down right now. Stressed about college.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

When his depression passed, he still listened to Bowie. He still listened to Queen, his still listened to, in her opinion, bad music. Sander was still in love with David Bowie, and she still hated him. So she made a rule that he couldn’t listen to him when she was around. For the most part, he obeyed.

Then something happened.

It was the beginning of the school year and Sander had gone out with friends, ones that Britt didn’t like, and he came back all… soft. It looked like he was melting around the edges, not physically, but mentally. He was happy and bubbly, not manic in anyway, though Britt tried to brush it off as the beginnings of an episode. When she asked what he’d done that night, he said he’d spray painted the side of a garbage truck. So what was so different about that night? He was acting strange, and her first thought was when Jens started acting strange with her. He’d been cheating on her, but… Sander didn’t have any female friends, she’d made sure of that. The only girl that he talked to was Noor, and she wasn’t his type of girl. And anyway, Noor texted her that same night to say she’d made out with this guy all night and that they were dating now. Britt was surprised to find out that it was Robbe, an old friend, but glad for both of them. Noor said she’d taken Robbe to spray paint the trucks, too, but she hadn’t noticed Sander there. They were all wearing masks, though.

Sander wasn’t manic, she could see that. He was just distracted by something. And when she found a developed photo on his desk, she knew why. He’d found a muse, someone to draw. And she thought she might have known who it was. She thought it might have been Robbe. He had his stupid baggy brown jacket on, and he looked small enough to be him. So was Sander inspired by Robbe? That was alright because they were both boys, and even though Sander told her about the boys he’d dated, she knew it was just his disorder. He only dated boys when he was manic. And Robbe was dating Noor. If the two boys became friends, then Sander would grow tired of Robbe and just be with her again. So, she invited him to the beach house with her when Jana asked if she wanted to come. She was glad she had, because she’d found another photo of Robbe in his room. It was definitely Robbe this time, she could clearly see his face. He was at the skatepark, laughing with his friends. So they’d meet at the beach and then Sander would realise how passive and shy and boring Robbe was, and he’d get bored of him. So when she saw them through the window into the kitchen, saw how closely Sander was standing to Robbe and how Robbe wasn’t moving away, how Sander fed Robbe something with his hands and they were staring at each other so intensely, she knew she had to do something. She walked in, hearing David Bowie and sighing to herself, and called out for him. When he came out to see her, she kissed him and wrapped her arms around him, staring at Robbe almost with a challenge.  _ He’s mine. _

Robbe smiled at her, but seemed distant for the rest of the week. She knew something was up, but she put it down to him being depressed. She wasn’t surprised that he was depressed because, honestly, someone that uninteresting had to have nothing going on in his life anyway. But when Sander asked her about him again and again, she started to think that maybe Sander was becoming manic. Finding interest in someone so boring had to be an effect of his mental illness. 

“He’s my ex boyfriend's best friend, Sander, I don’t really want to talk about him,” she snapped one night. They were sat by the fire, roasting marshmallows, and Sander had asked, yet again, if she knew anything about him, more than she’d already told him. “I don’t know much about him, anyway, he’s boring and doesn’t do much. He lives with his parents and he has no hobbies, he’s not interesting. Why do you want to know anyway?”

“Because I think he’s cool, Britt.” He sounded exasperated, leaning back in his seat. “I just want to get to know him, I’m allowed to have my own friends.”

Britt was about to say something, but Aaron jumped out of the beer cooler at Robbe, and he flipped out. He started yelling about shit with his parents, and everyone just stared at him as he stormed back into the room, slamming the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” Noor asked.

Jens shrugged. “Nothing.”

Noor followed Robbe inside, but the door was locked.

“Sure,” Amber scoffed. “Nothing.”

Sander stopped asking about Robbe after that, and Britt thought maybe he’d only been having a tiny manic episode. Hyper or hypo manic, or whatever it was called. When she got a text from Noor asking if they could do a double date, she was hesitant, but Sander hadn’t asked about him in a while. Of course, he hadn’t asked about him because he was talking to the other boy himself by that time. He wasn’t acting much different, but maybe Sander was a bit depressed. He was distant, like he was when he was having an episode, but this wasn’t full on. She knew she could handle him, just like she always did. So she said yes to Noor, and told Sander they were going on a double date with Robbe and Noor.

“We’re going on a date?” Sander asked.

“Yes, with Noor and Robbe.” She smiled sweetly at him, her best  _ you say something wrong and I’ll slap you _ smile. “They are a couple, just like we are, sweetie. We can have double dates.”

The double date went awfully. Noor and Robbe showed up screaming at each other, and Sander had been acting like a clown all night. Offering her food and then stealing it at the last moment. Goofing around on the bike ride there, being reckless and stupid. So when she left with Noor, she expected nothing. She didn’t think that Sander and Robbe would spend any time together, but she got a text asking if they were coming back. Robbe wanted to check in on Noor. She knew he was a pushover, and from the sound of it, he didn’t really deserve to get screamed at, but she didn’t think he’d wait at a bar, sad and dejected, like a lost puppy for them to come back. When she said no, they weren’t going back, she expected Sander to go back to hers shortly. But he didn’t get back until after midnight, and when he did, he was breathless and soaking wet.

“What happened?” she asked, whispering so she wouldn’t wake up Noor, sleeping on the sofa. “Why are you all wet?”

“I went for a swim.” Sander looked at her with wide blown eyes. “We need to talk.”

“We need to go to bed.” She could feel that something had tightened in her chest. “We can talk later.”

“No, Britt, it’s important.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He frowned. “But… Britt, I kis-“

“I don’t care what you do when you’re manic.” She saw him flinch. “What matters is that you come back to me, where you belong. You belong with me.”

“I’m not manic.”

“Yes, you are. You’re acting weird and you did something stupid. Your manic. Just like when you memorised all of Bowie’s lyrics, just like when you painted an entire mountain landscape on your bedroom wall. You’re manic, and I don’t care what you’ve done. You will always come back to me, because you belong with me.”

“Britt, I-“

She raised a hand and he flinched again. “Just go to bed.”

So he’d done just what Jens had done. He’d cheated on her, but who could it have been? She didn’t let him have female friends, she didn’t let him talk to other girls. If it was fucking Jana again, she’d throw a fit. But Sander hadn’t seemed all that interested in her when they were all hanging out. He didn’t seem interested in anyone on the trip aside from Robbe, but Robbe was a boy and straight. 

When Sander texted her that he wanted to break up that Tuesday, it took her by surprise. This wasn’t, however, the first time that he’d been manic and told her that he wanted to break up. She told him she’d wait until his episode was over. She sent a heart emoji and left it at that. 

Sander came home on Friday with bruises all over his body. She held him tight, but there was something off about him still. Like he wanted to be held, but not by her. She’d held Noor similarly a few nights ago when Robbe had broken up with her. They talked shit about Robbe for hours, coming to the conclusion that the only reason he’d break up with her was because he was gay and he was just using her. It made Noor even angrier, which Britt liked. She didn’t even know why she felt that angry at Robbe, but she could feel herself growing to hate him. She hated the amount of time he spent with Jens, when she and Jens were still dating. She hated how much time he spent with Sander. She thought he was boring and irritating, just there to fuck up her alone time. But now Sander wasn’t spending any time with him. It seemed like Robbe was actively avoiding Sander, and Britt couldn’t be happier.

But then Sander painted a ten foot mural of Robbe’s face on the side of a building, and she couldn’t ignore it any longer. Sander was manic, and he was obsessed with the boy. Her hatred turned to pity. This wasn’t going to be any good. When she got to school the next day, Robbe had apparently come out, and now Jana, Luca, and Amber were talking about how awful it must have been.

“That he’s gay?” Britt asked.

“No, that we did a gay test on him.” Jana sighed, shaking her head. “A few months ago, we were at a party and I tried to kiss him. We said that if he didn’t kiss me back, then we knew that he was gay. He must have felt so bad about it.”

“Have you seen the big painting of his face?” Luca asked.

“Yeah.” Britt shrugged. “It’s kind of ugly, but then… so is he so…”

“Robbe’s not ugly,” Jana said, smiling teasingly. “Just because Sander doesn’t paint huge pictures of you doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

“Who said anything about Sander?” Britt asked. “He didn’t paint it.”

“I didn’t say he did.” Jana looked shocked. “Just that… Robbe found an artistic boyfriend…”

Britt made eye contact with Robbe in the hallway later that day, and he blushed.

“Robbe,” she called, walking towards him, but he stepped into a classroom and she lost her chance.

When Sander called her to break up, she let it slide once again. He was just manic.

“You’re obsessed with him,” she said. “Just leave him alone, you don’t really like him.”

“No, Britt, I love him. So I’m breaking up with you to be with him. Okay?”

“No, Sander, you don’t love him. You love me, just come back to me when all of this is over. Okay?”

When Britt saw Sander next, it wasn’t what she expected. He was outside her school, his arms wrapped around Robbe, kissing the shorter boy. She saw red, and suddenly she was pulling Sander away and slapping him in the face.

“Asshole!” she yelled. She glared at Robbe. “And you stay away from my boyfriend, okay.”

Robbe looked shocked, and a little afraid. 

Britt didn’t expect Sander to blow up in her face. He sounded like he meant it when he said he’d broken up with her. But he was just manic. She watched as he grabbed Robbe and stormed away, seeing the shorter boy rub her boyfriends back between his shoulder blades. Someone asked if she was okay, and she said yes. It was only his mania. He was manic.

That didn’t make it hurt any less to see him wrapped in foil, being loaded into an ambulance. It didn’t hurt any less when she saw the defeated look on his face when his mother stroked her hand through his hair. It hurt like a stab through the heart when Sander refused to look at her, when Sander made every attempt to avoid her eyes. It burned like fire in her stomach when she saw Robbe biking towards them, saw him nearly throw his bike down on the cobblestones. She ran over to him, pushing him away when she got to him.

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped. She could feel the misting rain soak into her hair. 

“Sander!” he called.

“Don’t you dare,” she repeated. “Didn’t you fuck up enough of things?”

“What?” Robbe asked, briefly looking at her. “Britt, I just wanted to…”

“You don’t get it.” 

He wasn’t going away. “Sander!”

“You don’t get it!” She pushed at him again.

He looked at her, his gaze like a whip on her face. He loved Sander so much. He wasn’t going to give up, but she’d be damned if she let another of her boyfriends be stolen from her. 

“What?” he asked.

“He’s ill.” He frowned. “Sander is bipolar, okay?”

Robbe’s face went pale. “That’s not true.” He was still fighting her. “That’s not true.” He started to push past her again. “Sander!”

“Robbe, he…” She almost felt bad for him, but Sander was her boyfriend. 

“I don’t believe you, okay?” He looked passed her, to him, to her boyfriend. “Sander!”

She knew exactly what to say. Robbe, the uninteresting, passive, shy, kind idiot. He was an idiot because he fell in love with the wrong boy. He was an idiot because he thought he could pull Sander away from her. He was an idiot because he pissed off the wrong girl, the wrong girl who knew him, who had known him for a very long time. He was an idiot because he forgot that she knew exactly how to take him down, brick by brick, letter by letter. She knew how to tear him apart by the seams.

“He’s not in love with you.” Robbe looked like he was going to start crying when he stared at her. “He’s not in love with you. You’re just his next obsession and his next fantasy in which he completely gets caught up.”

It almost hurt her, the pain in his eyes. She had caused it, and no matter what, she knew he didn’t really deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be caught up in Sander’s mania. She was protecting what was hers, but she was also trying to protect him. She knew what it was like, the burden of loving someone with a mental illness, and he never could. He was in love with Sander. He was so desperately in love with her boyfriend. But he couldn’t have him, because Sander belonged to her. 

“I don’t believe you,” he said, his voice cracked and shaking.

“No?” It was the final straw, the final blow that would make him feel like what he actually was: nothing. “The last time he was manic he memorised all Bowie’s lyrics. And now you’ve got him caught up in a new mania. So stay the fuck away from my boyfriend. Before it gets even worse.”

She turned before she saw him cry, which she knew he was going to do, and ran back to the ambulance. She climbed in next to Sander’s mother, and sighed as the door closed.

“Who was that?” Sander’s mother asked. “That boy?”

“No one,” Britt replied.

“He was calling for Sander.” His mother looked passed Britt, out the back window of the ambulance. “Who was he?”

“Robbe,” Sander whispered, a tear slowly falling down his face. 

“Who’s Robbe?”

“No one,” Britt answered. “No one at all.”

The ride in the ambulance was quiet, broken only by the occasional question from the paramedics. Britt climbed out quickly when they got to the hospital, walked with Sander and his mother to the psychiatric ward after he was checked for injuries in accidents and emergency, and watched as he checked himself in.

“I’ll bring you some clothes tomorrow,” she said, reaching out to rub Sander’s arm as he sat on his bed, clad in too big hospital clothes.

He flinched away from her. “I never want to see you again.”

“Sander,” his mother reproached. “It’s Britt, you’re girlfriend.”

“No.” Sander stood, walking away from the both of them, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want her here, I don’t want her near me, I never want to see her again, I want her to go away.”

“Sander, really!” His mother was exasperated, shaking her head, too. “Just… sit down. We’ll talk about this in the morning, yeah? Just lay down, try to get some sleep.”

“No!” He was backed into the corner, slowly sliding down to the floor. He was crying now, thick, angry tears. “I don’t want her here!”

“Sander, she’s your girlfriend,” his mother tried again.

He shook his head. “I broke up with her two weeks ago, she won’t leave me alone.”

“He’s manic,” Britt said. “He breaks up with me every time he’s manic, he doesn’t mean it, he never does. He still loves me, he just forgets some times.”

“Robbe.” Sander glared at her. “I love Robbe, and there is nothing you can say or do to stop me from loving him.”

His mother stared at her with wide eyed confusion. “What do you mean? That he’s just manic?”

“He’s just having an episode, what he says doesn’t matter because it’s not real!” Britt sighed, throwing her hands up. “Jesus fucking Christ, will you just get your head out of your own ass? Will you just forget about him? Forget about this stupid fucking obsession?”

“Get out.”

Britt looked at Sander’s mother. “What?”

“I said, get out.” Her determined expression was fixed, her eyes growing dark, just like her son’s whenever he was angry. “What he feels is always real. His obsessions, as you call them, are real. You will leave, right now, or I will call security on you.”

So Britt left. She left, and she didn’t hear anything from Sander’s mother again until Sunday a week later.

“Listen, I don’t agree with anything you said when I saw you last, but we can’t find Sander. He’s just gone.”

So she’d gone to the hospital to look through his things, to see if she could find something, anything, that would tell her where he’d gone. What Britt found, though, was a drawing, covered in pencil shavings, of him. Of Robbe. With the word “sorry” hastily scribbled next to it. It was beautiful, the most beautiful picture she’d ever seen Sander draw. Far better than the ones he’d drawn if her. She sat down on Sander’s bed and she knew. She knew that she’d lost.

Sander was in love with Robbe.

Britt rose to leave, feeling suffocated by his things, but when she opened the door, Robbe was stood there with a raised hand to knock. He looked a mess, his hair was sticking up all over the place and his eyes were heavy with fatigue. But he looked determined, too.

“He’s gone.”

He looked at her with surprise. “Wait, what?”

She sniffled and rubbed her nose. “Yeah, he checked himself out and left.”

“What?” Robbe looked lost, and she wanted to smack his stupid face for stealing her boyfriend, but now wasn’t the time. “And… that’s allowed?”

“If you voluntarily check yourself in, apparently they can’t stop you if you want to leave.” She wanted, more than anything in the world, that Robbe didn’t exist. Or that she didn’t know him. “Have you heard from him?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

She walked back into the room, pulling out her phone.

“Isn’t he just with his parents?” Robbe asked.

“No, I’ve called them already.” Well, technically they called her, but it didn’t matter right now. “I hope he doesn’t do anything crazy.”

“What do you mean?” Robbe sounded wary.

She got Sander’s voicemail. “Sander. If you get this, can you please get back to me? Thank you.” She hung up and started to walk away, but she turned back to Robbe. “Uhm, okay. I’m gonna go look for him. If you hear from him, could you please let me know?”

“Yeah.” Robbe didn’t even look like he cared that she hated him, that he was the one person she wished dead. He was too kind, she realised, to actively hate anyone.

“Okay.” She sighed, something inside her melting, just a fraction. “I’ll do the same.”

She left, and she did look, but she couldn’t find him. She couldn’t even think of places that he might be. He wouldn’t go home, he wanted somewhere he could be alone. He wouldn’t go to hers, he seemed to hate her at this point. He wouldn’t go to school, she didn’t even see the point of thinking like that. Yeah, he was an artist, but it was just a school. So where could he be? Britt went home that night with a brick in her stomach. She hoped he wouldn’t do something stupid.

Britt went to school the next day, exhausted and angry, but she didn’t expect anything. She didn’t think anything would happen, she was even starting to give up hope of ever finding him. He’d probably left Antwerp all together and fucked off to England, to be closer to his stupid precious David Bowie. Though, she thought she remembered hearing about David Bowie’s death in the news a few years back.

Text from: Jens

_ Hey, Robbe told me about what happened with Sander. He just got a text from him, and then Robbe ran away. I don’t know anything else. _

A spike of fear went through her stomach. Sander texted Robbe? Robbe had heard something from Sander?

Text to: Robbe

_ What is he texting you? _

_ Do you know where he is? _

Robbe didn’t reply for a few hours.

Text from: Robbe

_ Sander is okay. _

_ He’ll be sleeping with me tonight. _

And that felt like a slap in the face. Maybe Robbe did have a backbone after all. She couldn’t figure out what to say. She could tell him to back off again, but that wouldn’t work. Would it? She could cling to Sander like a parasite, but she knew he’d just end up leaving her again. He hated her, there was no way he couldn’t. What had she done to her relationship? Hadn’t she been the most supportive girlfriend she could have been? Didn’t she try to get Sander to snap out of his obsessions, his manias, his depressions? Hadn’t she been the perfect girlfriend? 

Britt went and searched through Sander’s Instagram, finding the photo of him and Robbe, the black and white one, the one that really screamed that he was in love with the other boy. It felt so bad, to lose him. It wasn’t her fault, she kept telling herself, but the more she thought it, the faker it felt. How could this not be her fault?

Text to: Robbe

_ I’ll tell his parents. _

_ Take good care of him… _


End file.
